Requiem Of Shadows
by Niknakz93
Summary: -Sequel to Light In Your Nightmare- Cynthia survived by the skin of her teeth. But there are much worse things looming on the horizon. With everything to play for, losing could be disastrous and with deadly consequences. Jonathan/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Annnnnnnd let the sequel begin guys ^-^**

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Cynthia wasn't strong enough to even sit up for next month, just lying there burning. She vaguely wondered why she was trapped inside a Malachi Configuration, but then she understood- she was a threat. Not only did they hate her, they were scared of her.

The first time she'd seen her eyes, she'd gasped and dropped her glass of water, just staring at the emerald hues. She didn't know what to say, so she simply cried. And it hurt. It hurt so bad. And that was good. She'd never felt so human, so helpless.

And Jonathan. She missed him so much that it was a constant ache in her chest.

There were Silent Brothers outside her door at all times, and she wasn't at all bothered. They'd been through her mind, and then reported that all trace of demon blood was gone. She'd been given a second chance.

Jace had left his bed next to her. They hadn't spoken once. Cynthia was left wondering if he was angry at her, or sad. If he hated her or just anything. She didn't want him to hate her. Not at all. That boy was special. Too special to lose.

So Cynthia just lay there curled up upon her bed, fingers tracing the ragged scar that was upon her stomach. _No more wearing bikinis _she thought in amusement, pulling the covers more over her.

As she slept, she dreamed. Dreamed of Jonathan stood garbed in red and black, stood atop a hill staring down at a bone city. And then Cynthia realized that it was Alicante. Or at least, what had once been the Glass City. It was the Blood City now, the canals running red.

His shirt wasn't red, she suddenly understood. It was white, but simply drenched in blood. The smile upon his face was dark, no light in those midnight eyes at all.

That was the night she woke up with her back drenched in cold sweat. And someone was sat there just outside the configuration upon a chair, dozing lightly. The moonlight hit his hair, making it shine like spun gold. Jace.

She reached forward, calling gently, "Jace?" he woke with a start, tired aureate eyes gazing at her, blinking a few times to clear the haze.

"Evening," he sighed, running a hand through his tangled locks. Cynthia smiled faintly. "You survived."

"So did you," he noted, leaning back in his seat, groaning gently. They sat there in silence for a moment until Jace broke it by saying in a low voice "I read that letter."

Cynthia froze at that, her eyes widening slightly. Jace opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He rose to his feet, trying once more to speak but failing. With sad eyes, the girl just watched him stalk out of the Infirmary. Everything was different now.

Jonathan's mourning of sorts didn't last long. After so long, it turned to rage. Pure and utter rage. And now, a month later, his anger hadn't dissipated one bit. He'd returned to the cottage of his and Cynthia's childhood, ramming the Morgenstern blade that had belonged to _her_ into the ground before the place, eyes burning like a fire at midnight. His fingers had curled around the hilt to a point it hurt.

"I swear my love," he breathed out, eyes fixed upon the heavens, "that they will pay. And with their lives." His head dipped down and his lips pressed a kiss to blade, resting his forehead against it for a moment. Jonathan sighed, fingers slipping from the sword as he rose to his feet and turned away from the house.

He didn't plan on ever returning.

Cynthia returned to full health a few days later, and soon being trapped was wearing thin on her patience, but still she sat on the bed or curled up. Jace hadn't visited again. No one had. She didn't blame them.

When she was visited, it was from Clave officials. The Inquisitor she didn't know the name of. In his hand though, she recognized the Mortal Sword. Cynthia sat there quietly as the Inquisitor spoke. "Cynthia Darkstone, raise your hands."

She obeyed, raising her hands, palms flat up. It made no difference if she resisted or not. They'd force her otherwise… and that would hurt. Like hell. Once the Malachi Configuration was down, the Mortal Sword was placed onto her palms, causing Cynthia to close her eyes, memories of the Silent City and her father coming to mind. The last time she'd tried to hold the sword.

"Do you know anything at all about Jonathan Morgenstern's plans?" she was asked, and the truth was forced from her. "No. I know nothing."

"You are his lover?"

"Yes I am."

A pause. "Does Jonathan know you are alive?"

Cynthia glanced up now, arching a brow as she spoke, the truth spilling from her, and not because of the sword. "Do you truly believe that Jonathan would leave me _here _if he knew I was alive, Inquisitor?"

He fell silent at that and Cynthia thought the questioning was over. But there was one more as he asked, leaning down until their noses were very nearly touching. "Would Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern do anything for you?_Anything?_"

"Without hesitation," she answered instantly. The Inquisitor was smiling in a way she didn't like. He turned away and she heard him say, "we can use her. Lure Sebastian in. A trap."

Cynthia stood up at that, Sword still in her palms. "No!" she just yelled, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare touch him."

Her words were ignored, even when they snatched the blade from her hands. Cynthia stood rooted to the spot with fear in her heart- they were going to use her to get to Jonathan? Not while she was alive. Never. _I'd rather truly die _she just thought, hands curling into fists. Tears were burning in her eyes. It was then that Cynthia realized just how human she was now. She hurt. She was in agony.

She wanted Jonathan.

"It's been a month," Jace muttered to his reflection as he stared at his bare chest, running his fingers over the ragged scar. It was as red and disgusting as always. "Why hasn't he attacked yet?"

Jace met his reflection's aureate eyes, answering his own question. "I don't like it. He's up to something." In silence, he yanked his t-shirt back on over his head, groaning out to the ceiling, "something big."

There was a knock on the door, a voice calling, "someone in there?"

Jace froze at that voice. He knew it anywhere. Cynthia.

He stepped forward and tugged the door open, staring at the girl stood there. She looked thinner than he last remembered, and her eyes were a beautiful emerald. Cynthia blinked a few times, lips forming the words, "oh, sorry. I thought no one was…" she trailed off, laughing out weakly, "I just miss the showers."

Jace stepped out and aside, indicating that she should go right ahead. With a frown, Cynthia caught his wrist, letting him go almost instantly as heat flared up between them. It didn't hurt, but it startled her. They were both full of heavenly fire to a certain extent.

"Do you hate me Jace?" she asked quietly. The boy paused before answering slowly, "I don't know. And I truly mean that."

"You said you read the letter? Did you read the… you know what part?" Her voice was no more than a whisper. Jace's face drained of colour as he just muttered out, turning away, "never mention that again." He hurried down the corridor and was gone. Cynthia swallowed hard to force back a sob. She wasn't weak. Even now, the demon blood gone, she was strong. She wouldn't give Jonathan away. She refused to get him hurt.

As Cynthia took a shower, groaning lightly in delight- it had been next to a month, she heard the voices outside. She switched off the shower, listening intently

_"Do you think he'll take the bait?"_

_"As soon as he knows Cynthia is alive, he'll come."_

_"True. Remember the SilentCity? What if he does something like that again?"_

_"Let's hope."_

_"Inquisitor, the news has been leaked into the Downworlder community. That Cynthia is here and alive. Do we need to remove her before the last stand?"_

_"No. She must stay here."_

_"As you wish."_

Cynthia just stood there with ice spreading through her body.

She really was the key to capturing Jonathan.

The key to his destruction.


	2. Chapter 2

Cynthia couldn't help but feel foul as she realized she was trapped inside the Institute. It was claustrophobic almost. At least the heavenly fire was fading. By the end of the month, it would be gone completely.

She had a room to herself away from the main part of the place. Cynthia spent most of her time in there, away from everyone as possible. It scared her, the thought of what they could and would do to her. Jace she was sure wouldn't hurt her, but the others… she had no idea. It had been too long since she'd last seen Isabelle and Alec. And she knew Clary would want her dead. Cynthia didn't blame her.

Jace bought her food though, and for that, she was grateful.

Six o'clock a day later, the knock upon her door sounded and she called "yeah come in." Jace slipped inside with a paper bag in each hand, there were two forks between his teeth too as he backed into the room, mumbling out, "food."

"Oh?" Cynthia mused, sitting up atop her bed, arching a brow, "the prisoner gets food? Chinese food?"

"It's your favorite." Jace grinned, walking over to the table and dragging it over to the bed. "I got you yuk sung."

Cynthia's emerald eyes widened, very nearly snatching the bag from him as she groaned out, "by the Angel I love, love yuk sung." She prodded his own back with the fork she stole from his mouth. "Is that mu shu shit?"

"Rude," Jace scoffed, tearing open his own bag and perching at the edge of the bed. Cynthia sat down next to him, ripping the brown paper open, the warm smell of mince and mushroom wafting upwards. It was mouthwatering.

"Won't Clary be angry?" Cynthia asked hesitantly a moment later. Jace said nothing for a moment, then quietly, clearing his throat, "she dumped me."

Cynthia dropped her fork, eyes widening in shock. "I-?" she spluttered, finally managing to get out, "this is my fault, isn't it?"

With a nod, Jace replied, "because I said you could stay here. And-" he shoved a mouthful of Chinese into his mouth, swallowing before finishing with, "plus a little birdy told her about _something._"

"I was just trying to tell her that… I- I don't know what to say Jace. I feel like shit."

"Shit is brown. Your hair is blonde…" a cheeky grin spread across his face. "You're not dumb. I'll give you that."

"Well you're blonde too," Cynthia shot back, flicking a little of her yuk sung at him with a quiet giggle, a small smile spreading across her face as it landed on his cheek and stuck there. Jace cocked a brow and raised a hand, rubbing it away with a tut of, "Behemouth demons have more table manners than you."

"Oh shut up."

Silence fell once more as they ate, and it was only then that Cynthia found the courage to ask, "I wanted to… talk to you."

"I know. About… _it._"

"_It _was your child." Cynthia munched on the leftover lettuce, eyes staring at the golden haired boy as he finished his own, swallowing before he replied slowly, "I know. Don't you think that I've been thinking about it? The fact that you were-" Jace stopped dead, suddenly losing his appetite. When he looked at Cynthia in the past, he saw the old girl. The one that had gone through so much pain and horror. The demon girl. Now, she was light, fun. Her eyes were as bright as her soul. Cynthia was an innocent caught in the middle of a war. And she'd escaped. Survived.

"Say it," she went quietly, rising to her feet with her forest green eyes fixed upon his aureate own. "Pregnant. It doesn't upset me anymore." Cynthia cleared her throat, nodding to the door. "Go find someone else to talk to Jace. I'd rather be left alone."

Jace watched her as she lay down upon the bed, her back to him. He nodded, crumpling the empty bags into his hand and tossing them into the bin.

"He's coming, isn't he?" Cynthia heard Jace chuckle out. There was no mocking, just fact. They both knew it was a matter of time.

Cynthia nodded, closing her eyes lightly. "He's coming."

Jonathan always slept alone now. Girls always made passes at him, but he barely noticed them. They weren't his Cynthia. Nowhere near.

This morning, he'd been rudely awakened by a pair of his dark Shadowhunters. A Shadowhunter that had betrayed him at the last possible moment and fled had been caught, and was bought before him, forced to his knees.

The demon boy walked down the stairs with his eyes dark and narrowed at the sight of the man. A week he'd been staying in France, a little town that was out of the way of anyone noticing. Perfect.

"Well well," he very nearly drawled, turning the blade he'd bought down with him over and over again between his fingers. "Richard Firebanks," he mused, crouching down before the young man, eyes narrowing even more. "How nice of you to show your face, traitor."

"I have no expertise in raids-!" he cried, attempting to pull away from the pair holding him, but they merely wrenched at his arms a little more, causing him to hiss in pain as his shoulders were almost dislocated. Jonathan smiled. It was innocent enough, but it didn't meet his eyes. They stayed as cold and as black as always. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw. He raised the dagger and positioned the tip over a choice place at his neck, next to smirking out, "there's a vein here, Richard, that if you nick it, you bleed to death. Did you know that? Slowly, agonizingly bleeding to death." His midnight eyes flickered up to the Shadowhunter on the right, jerking his head towards the door. He didn't want blood all over the floor.

Jonathan ignored the young man's cries of pain as he was literally dragged downstairs and outside into the little garden. The place wasn't big, just a little house out of the way. Pretty much what the Clave wouldn't expect from him. But then, he moved around so much that he was sure they wouldn't find him. And so what if they did? He had an army. The faeries too at his service if the need arose.

He had power. Terrible power. Enough to change the world.

"I have information-! Sebastian, important information!" Richard gasped out now, lying with his back flat to the cold stones of the patio. Jonathan laughed, raising the dagger, fingers curling around the hilt. "There is nothing you can possibly offer me. Ave atque vale, Richard Fireban-"

_"She's alive-!" _the Shadowhunter just yelled, voice echoing lightly. Jonathan froze at that, but then he rammed the dagger down into his shoulder instead, ignoring his snarl of agony as he asked, voice a hiss, "what are you talking about."

"The blonde girl. Cynthia Darkstone. She's alive-!" Richard gasped, voice strained from the agony the blade in his shoulder was causing. A moment later, he truly screamed as the demon boy twisted it sharply, snarling out with such venom, "Cynthia is dead. I saw it with my own eyes. _She burned._"

"She's at the New York Institute!" Richard yelled, throat raw. "All… the demons. The vampires. Even the wolves and faeries. They talk. _Cynthia Darkstone lives!_"

The way his voice was wavering, Jonathan was sure he was lying. But Firebanks wasn't brave. He certainly wasn't clever either to think of something like this on the spot.

"Prove it," he spat. Richard shook his head, gasping out, "I have no way to prove it. But she's alive."

"It's a trap, isn't it?" Jonathan mused, tapping a finger to the hilt of the dagger. "They want me to believe this and stumble into their clever little trap."

The blood was staining Richard's black shirt even darker as he panted out, "I swear on the Angel, on Raziel himself that it's the truth. Cynthia is alive. Alive and well."

"Fetch the Cup," Jonathan ordered with his tone more bored now. One of the Shadowhunters let him go and vanished back inside the house. A moment later, he returned with the Infernal Cup that he handed to the demon boy. He yanked Richard into a sitting position and jammed the Cup against his lips, saying softly, "you fear this, don't you?"

"No."

"Tell the truth," Jonathan snarled, his other hand letting go of the blade and catching his jaw, forcing his mouth open and tipping the Cup a little. Richard fought against the Shadowhunter holding him, but it was useless. "I am telling the truth!" he spluttered, dark blood staining his lips as he tried to close his mouth, but the demon boys fingers were like iron.

It was then that Jonathan knew he was telling the truth.

Cynthia… she was alive. She'd survived. All these months while he built up his army… she lived.

Jonathan lowered the Cup now, setting it down upon the floor next to Richard. He breathed an audiable sigh of relief, but it was literally silenced as the Morgenstern boy yanked the dagger from his shoulder and slashed it across his throat, grabbing the Infernal Cup and straightening up and turning away as the man literally bled to death, staining the patio a dark crimson.

He stood there for a moment with the bloodied dagger still in one hand, the Cup in the other. Jonathan dropped the dagger now, raising the empty hand to his throat where the locket lay. She wouldn't be happy that he'd stolen it from her mother in Alicante, but he wanted it. No matter the consequences. That it might upset the elder woman. Jonathan didn't even know why he'd had one of the photos of them both shrunk to fit inside. He just thought that it made sense. It made him feel… almost better.

Jonathan had no idea that it was mourning. He'd been in mourning. Or at least, as much as a boy with demon blood could. His sadness was anger. And he'd been furious. So furious that he'd razed a Italian town to the ground. Not even ashes remained when he was done.

"I'm coming," he found himself saying, the words slipping from his lips. "I'm coming Cynthia."


	3. Chapter 3

There was a storm brewing over New York. They could all feel it. The sky was black and rolling with dark clouds. Thunder could be heard at times, rumbling in the distance.

Cynthia was stood before the mirror with a pair of scissors in her hands, staring at her reflection. Her long golden hair was considerably shorter now, just brushing her shoulders with a light sloping fringe that leaned to the left. The rest of her hair was lying around her feet upon the floor. Free of demon blood. Emerald eyes back. Shorter hair. A new Cynthia.

She liked it.

She just wondered what this Cynthia was destined to achieve; burning the world down with Jonathan or stopping him?

_"I hope you're planning on clearing all that up."_

Cynthia's eyes flickered to the figure stood behind her. Isabelle. She wasn't glaring, but her own eyes weren't soft. She nodded, glancing down to the mess upon the floor. "I was. Chill."

"I can't believe you were a traitor all along Cynthia," Isabelle blurted out before she could stop herself. With a light sigh, Cynthia closed her eyes. "I don't want to argue or fight, Izzy."

"Your boyfriend killed my _little brother._"

Cynthia just stared for a moment before muttering out, "I know. And I don't… know what I can say to that. I am so sorry. It never should have happened."

With a snort, Isabelle just snapped, "he'll be your death. Mark my words." With that, she was gone. Cynthia just stood there gazing at the open door, saying quietly more to herself. "I know."

She stood there for a long time after that, feeling more than a little miserable.

When her stomach started to rumble, Cynthia felt her feet lead her into the kitchen, saying to Jace who was stood next to the toaster, "stick me a few in."

Jace scowled, flashing her look, but stopped dead at the sight of her new hair. He blinked a few times before saying, "where's your hair gone?"

"I cut it off," Cynthia went briskly, pushing past him and stealing his own toast. With a snort, Jace retorted, "are you trying to match me?"

"No love. Your hair is longer."

Isabelle walked into the kitchen and didn't even bother sending the pair a filthy look as she went to the sink to pour a glass of water. Jace and Cynthia were as close as ever, and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

The next moment, the sound of Isabelle's glass hitting the floor and shattering filled the kitchen. Jace frowned, turning on the balls of his feet to face her, Cynthia following suit. Instantly, her eyes widened and a smile twitched onto her face. She couldn't help it.

Jonathan was stood there in the kitchen. His eyes were fixed upon her own, and he didn't look worried. Jonathan didn't even flinch as Jace grabbed the carving knife from the side and threw it at him. Cynthia gasped, raising her hands to her mouth, but it merely went right through him. A Projection.

"My Cynthia" was the first thing he said, taking a step forward and stopping before her. Cynthia smiled weakly, gazing into his midnight eyes. There was something there, she was sure. A little flicker of emotion. The pain of missing her.

"What do you want?" Jace snarled, taking a step towards him. He wasn't worried. The demon boy was a picture, nothing else.

Jonathan cocked a brow at that, saying in a cold voice, "what do I want? I want Cynthia back." His obsidian eyes hadn't left hers once. Cynthia wanted to hug him so tight. To never let go. His hair had grown a fraction longer, very nearly hanging in his eyes instead of smoothed back. It made her heart hurt, the fact that he was so close but they couldn't touch.

"Come and take her," Jace dared him, a dark grin upon his face.

Jonathan took a step forward, raising his hands and catching her hands. Cynthia felt it. The demon boy's eyes were sparkling with mischief as he suddenly sprang into action, yanking her towards him.

Cynthia closed her eyes as the light flared up, stinging them even through their lids. The hands were still holding her own. She dared to open them, gazing at the young man stood before her. He was grinning.

"How-?" Cynthia just spluttered, looking around- they were clearly in another place. An apartment it seemed. "And how did you do that?"

Jonathan shrugged, thumb stroking the back of her hand, "Dad taught me a few things. That was the first time I actually tried it."

It was in that instant that it hit Cynthia. He was here. _He was here. _With a cry of "oh god," she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight into her chest with a sob escaping her. Jonathan hitched her up onto his hips, wrapping his own arms around her shoulders. He buried his face into her neck and held her tight as she sobbed, just hugging him even tighter. They stood there for next to ten minuets before Cynthia's hands slid to his face, cupping it and crashing her lips to his own in a hot, desperate kiss. "I missed you so much," she gasped out against his lips, not giving him chance to reply as she kissed him again, moaning softly the entire time with a hand winding itself into Jonathan's hair.

"I love you," Cynthia kept saying everytime she had a spare breath, almost like a chant.

"Ow-!" Jonathan suddenly snarled, roughly pushing Cynthia off him and away. He had a hand to his neck and she saw a red scorch mark there. Crap.

Cynthia wrinkled up her nose. "I'm sorry. I thought… all the heavenly fire had faded. Obviously not."

"Well," Jonathan went, his voice breathless from their hungry kisses, "this puts a downer on things. I was planning on dragging you up to my bedroom. Do you know how long it's been since I last had sex?"

"Almost three months."

"Exactly! I have needs, Cynthia." Jonathan's grin was wide and playful. It actually reached his eyes and made them sparkle. Cynthia frowned and cocked her head a little. "You thought me dead."

"Your memory lingered. A curious thing, love. I do believe I may have felt it."

Cynthia smiled lightly at that, gazing up at him as he stared down at her, right into her eyes. "You have such beautiful eyes," he murmured, raising a hand and cupping her cheek. A thumb traced the soft skin there. "Now," he pulled away, turning to the table where his black leather jacket was. He slipped it on before continuing with "we need to go. Move. Come on my love, I have big plans-" Jonathan held out his hand for her to take, cocking a brow. But as Cynthia stared at it longingly, he lowered it with a nod.

"Next week I'll be fine," Cynthia assured him, kissing his cheek as she strolled over, taking his jacket into her hands and fastening it up. "Then I'm all yours. I want you, Jonathan. With every fiber in my body. So much it hurts…" her voice trailed off, suddenly feeling self conscious. It wasn't like her to be so… forward. Cynthia smiled weakly and started for the door at the other side of the room, but Jonathan caught her hand, tugging her back.

Jonathan reached to his neck and unclasped the necklace, taking Cynthia's hand and placing it in her palm, saying quietly, "don't you dare leave me again." He headed off towards the door without a word and Cynthia glanced down at the metal in her hand, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

It was her Darkstone necklace. The one she'd given to her mother.

Cynthia wondered now. Did he… miss her? Miss her so much that it hurt?

Maybe there _was_ something human buried deep inside him after all.


	4. Chapter 4

By Portal, the trip was swift and instant. Jonathan stalked through first, saying briskly as they appeared on the other side, "now Cyn, wait outside. I'll be just a moment."

Cynthia stopped dead as they faced a lone mansion, frowning lightly- where were they? It looked like Idris from the greenery and size of the house. She rolled her eyes as the demon boy stalked towards it, frowning as someone else joined them through the Portal. The girl was tall, very pretty with dark auburn hair that fell in heavy curls around her face. Her eyes were as dark as Jonathan's own. Cynthia arched a brow as she stopped dead at the sight of her, blinking a few times as she asked, "who are you-?"

A pause. "Cynthia," she replied slowly, watching the girl's eyes widen in realization, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh! Miss. Darkstone! Apologies, I've never seen a picture of you. Sebastian doesn't show anyone that one in your locket."

"And who are you?"

"Whitetree. Hanna Whitetree."

A warlock. She had to be. Cynthia could see the tail of a white tiger behind her.

Cynthia nodded to the mansion. "What is he doing?"

Hanna's smile was fixed upon her face now. "Cleaning up loose ends." As if on cue, a scream echoed from the mansion and a moment later, it was cut off. As if stabbed in the throat. The person probably had been, Cynthia realized.

When Jonathan walked out, his hands were stained with red, as was his left cheek. He stopped before Cynthia with a smile upon his face, asking cheerfully, "all done."

Cynthia wanted to demand just why he'd slaughtered this Shadowhunter, but chose not ask. He merely walked past them both and back through the Portal. With a blink, the blonde followed, calling after him, "Jonathan?"

"Yes?"

"You're covered in blood." Cynthia caught his left wrist and yanked it back, gazing at the cut that was staining his cuff red. She sighed as he frowned out, "I didn't even realize he'd caught me."

"Stay," Cynthia ordered, snagging the demon boy's stele from his back pocket, scrawling an _iratze _next to the wound, ignoring his stares. She let him go as the wound healed up, muttering out, "you need to be more careful." Cynthia took a step backwards, not meeting Jonathan's midnight eyes as he gazed at her unblinkingly. She cleared her throat before pushing on ahead, stepping back through the Portal.

As soon as she came out the other side, she frowned- the location had changed. Cynthia didn't recognize the place at all. For one thing, it was snowing. And heavily too.

"Ah, Moscow," Jonathan grinned, looking to Cynthia as he added, "you look freezing cold."

Cynthia who was still in her t-shirt and jeans nodded, shivering violently. "I am." Jonathan didn't even bother turning to Hanna as she walked through the Portal, simply saying, "Give Cynthia your coat."

The warlock obeyed without question, handing over her coat to Cynthia. She felt guilty as she pulled it on, suddenly understanding why Jonathan was wearing such thick clothes like his black jacket that was zipped all the way up, a scarf twined around his neck in the pattern of checked black and white. Upon seeing her look at it, he unwound it from his neck and stepped over to Cynthia, wrapping it around her neck and tucking it in. The scarf was warm and smelt like him. She never wanted to give it back.

Glancing down, she saw he'd pulled on a pair of gloves to combat the chill. He wiggled her fingers for her to take and she did, knowing this time she wouldn't burn him. It was fading, but still there. At least she could touch and hold him for next to ten minuets before having to pull away.

Cynthia didn't know Moscow at all. Nor speak Russian. So it amused her when they ended up at a little apartment on the outskirts, allowing the demon boy to buzz them in, speaking fluent Russian.

"I didn't know you could speak Russian," Cynthia laughed as he pushed the door open, the top apartment of the entire block. She wondered just why they were here.

Jonathan snorted, uttering a line of words Cynthia didn't understand. She followed him inside, glancing around- the place wasn't big. One bedroom with a single bed, a small kitchen and living room, plus bathroom. As she strolled over to the wide, sweeping windows, pulling the curtains back, she realized they had a spectacular view of Moscow. The snow was falling even heavier now, and some was still in Jonathan's hair, mingling with the natural whiteness.

There was a light whirr as the heating was cranked up. Arms creeped around her waist, chin resting atop her head as she was tugged close.

"What did you say a moment ago?"

"I said," he murmured into her ear, "that I had missed you." Jonathan pressed a kiss to her cheek, making Cynthia giggle out, "You'll burn your lips."

"Then let them burn."

Cynthia trailed her fingers up until they brushed his arms, resting the back of her head against his chest, closing her eyes lightly. Such peace. She'd never felt it like this before. Just the pair of them alone with Hanna now gone. Swiftly, she turned in his arms, breathing out before she could stop herself. "Take off your jacket."

A moment of silence, and then Cynthia stood back as Jonathan tugged his jacket open, shrugging it off and letting it drop to the floor, leaving him in his jeans and black t-shirt. "Now the t-shirt," she ordered. Jonathan didn't even bother hesitating as he obeyed, the t-shirt falling to the floor. Cynthia tossed the borrowed coat aside, yanking her own t-shirt over her head. Jonathan watched with appreciative eyes, telling the girl "I like what you've done to your hair. A whole new Cynthia."

"And what about you?" Cynthia replied, trailing her fingers across his toned stomach, satisfied to feel it react to her touch. The whole idea that she had such an effect on Jonathan made her feel... special. She took a hold of his waist and backed them up until they reached the wide black leather sofa, shoving roughly so he fell backwards onto it with a light thump.

"I've not changed much," Jonathan shrugged as she seated herself atop his hips. Cynthia didn't even bother replying as she leaned down, crushing her lips to his own, knowing the clock was against them. For a minuet they kissed passionately, but then Cynthia's lips left his own, moving past his jaw and down the side of his throat, carrying on further and further down his chest until she reached his navel, murmuring out just above it, "you have no idea how much I want you right now. It… hurts."

Cynthia had never realized just how perfect his body was before. It was toned, hard in all the right places with just the right amount of muscle showing. There were two indents almost where his hips were, dipping past the waistband of his jeans. She found her fingers running themselves over them, a light groan in her throat. It was practically sinful, the way he made her feel. Just his body alone was enough to make her heart truly race against her chest, stomach clenched tight with wanting. But that Cynthia wanted, she couldn't have. And she was frustrated. With a growl, her lips pressed a kiss to the narrow line of white hair that ran from navel to inside his jeans, almost invisible unless you were looking close. It was as soft as down from a bird. Silky and soft.

With a playful grin about her lips, Cynthia's teeth caught the top button of Jonathan's jeans, forcing herself not to laugh as he froze from shock, but didn't push her away. She gave up and laughed against the metal button, "from what I can feel under these jeans, demon boy, you want me as much as I do you."

Jonathan groaned and rested his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as he breathed out, "you win this round. But I'm warning you now- as soon as that fire is faded away, you're not allowed to leave my room until I say you can."

_Damn _Cynthia just thought, not adverse to the idea at all. She climbed off him now and stood up, gazing down at Jonathan as she told him, "I'm taking the bed. You can stay here."

"You can have the sofa," he grumbled, sitting up. "It's my bed."

"Tough," Cynthia went sweetly, leaning down and pecking a kiss to his cheek before turning around and heading into the bedroom, undoing her bra and tossing it back at him, smirking out, "there. You can sleep with that for tonight."

To Jonathan's disappointment, she shut the door before he could see anything.

He wasn't complaining though. His plans were running smoothly and he had Cynthia back.

For now, all was well.


	5. Chapter 5

Cynthia kept the bedroom door open a crack all night, lying there staring at the demon boy who was fast asleep on the sofa. He looked peaceful for once. Untroubled. Around dawn, she finally managed to nod off.

She was first to wake up too about midday, wandering into the kitchen and finding that it had been recently stocked. Swiftly, Cynthia started cooking breakfast. It was eggs and bacon that made her mouth water. She piled two plates and strolled over to Jonathan, shaking his shoulder a little to rouse him. He groaned and opened his eyes, gazing up at her. Cynthia didn't even feel self conscious that she was still completely topless, her bottom half clad in jeans.

"Breakfast in bed by a half naked woman," Jonathan mused as he sat up, taking the plate and resting it on his lap. "Have I died and gone to heaven?"

"Shut up," Cynthia laughed, yanking open his covers and slipping under them, knowing the shirt the boy was wearing would protect him enough. Then again, she might be fine. The faint glowing that had once adorned her had very nearly faded. Jonathan wrapped his arm around her while his other hand held up his breakfast so it didn't go on the floor.

Jonathan pressed his lips to her cheek, muttering out "you have no idea how much I love having you in my arms again."

"You're adorable" Cynthia murmured, nuzzling his shoulder a little before starting her breakfast. The feel of Jonathan's heart hammering against her back was soothing almost. It felt good being so close.

"So," she asked a bite later, "plans for the day?"

"I need to nip into the Red Square and meet this faerie, and then Paris."

"Why Paris?"

"Because I want to spoil you before I get back to work."

Cynthia blushed at that, laughing out, "by the Angel, you've softened so much."

"No," Jonathan chuckled. "I just wanted you back. And now I do. It's you and me, Cynthia. You and me against this entire world."

Cynthia ate the rest of her breakfast in silence before getting up, groaning out lightly, "who are you meeting?"

"A faerie from the Seelie Court," Jonathan explained, climbing to his own feet and wandering over to the sink, dumping his empty plate there. "Progress report you might say. The Queen is an impatient cow."

"I bet she'd kill you if she heard you say that."

"She could try," the demon boy smirked out, stealing a kiss from her lips before wandering into the bedroom to change.

A knock sounded on the front door not too long after, causing Cynthia to frown and pull on Jonathan's black silk dressing gown, tying it around her before she opened the door. A young woman was stood there- Hanna. The warlock. She had a bang in her hands that she held out to Cynthia, saying smoothly, "Sebastian asked me to get this for you yesterday. A change of clothes."

"Oh," Cynthia just went, taking the bag. "Thank you." As the warlock turned to leave, she wondered something. "Why are you with Jonathan?"

Hanna turned around, smiling up at her. "Because I owe him. I have no choice."

"Why do you owe him?"

"He saved my life," Hanna shrugged, leaving without another word. It made Cynthia wonder though- just why had he saved a warlocks life? Did he want to have one in his debt? She was almost like a maid.

Cynthia shut the door and tipped the contents of the large plastic bag onto the sofa, staring at the dark brown jeans, knee high boots that were almost the same color, a black t-shirt and thick golden jumper. They were all rolled up inside a large cream sheepskin coat that was lined with fur inside. Perfect for Moscow weather, for it was still snowing. Heavy at that.

"Ahh, finally," Jonathan just commented as he walked into the living room just as Cynthia finished doing up her last boot, pulling a black jumper over his head, smoothing it down a moment later. "They should fit you nicely."

Cynthia nodded, pulling on the thick coat with a smile. "I love it. I love it all…" a smile spread across her face once more. "I love you."

The boy cocked his head a little at that, waiting until she stood up from tying her boots to say in return, "I love you too." Cynthia fell quiet at that, but then she laughed out under her breath "I think… that was one of the first times you've ever said that?"

"Fine I'll never say it again."

"No! No. I want you to say it more. I love it. So much. Like I love you."

Jonathan just stared. It made Cynthia frown lightly. But then he came back to life, pulling a mobile phone from his back pocket, his dark eyes flickering down as his fingers punched at the keys. "Who are you texting?" Cynthia asked curiously.

"Hanna," he replied, voice neutral. As Cynthia waited for him to elaborate, he merely went, "she can go instead. I want you all to myself today."

She was honestly shocked at that. The fact he was throwing all his plans out of the window. And for her. That wasn't… it wasn't like him at all.

"Really-?" Cynthia just went in surprise, allowing the young man to take her hands and tug gloves onto them with a smile upon his lips. "Really. I want to show you everything. The beauty of the world. Before it's ours, of course."

"Of course (!)" Cynthia laughed weakly, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek as she went in excitement, "where first?"

"You shall see my love."

_-RequiemOfShadows-_

_"So what is that again?"_

_"That would be the St. Basil's Cathedral."_

Cynthia gazed up at the cathedral with a smile on her lips- it was magnificent. More like a palace than anything else. The way the snow covered it, still falling lightly made her laugh with joy. Cynthia loved snow. It was the opposite of fire.

"It was built by Ivan the Terrible. Almost four hundred and fifty years ago or so now. There is no building like it in the whole world." Jonathan explained. Cynthia glanced to him at that. "Like you?" she asked.

Jonathan nodded. "Like me."

But that made Cynthia wonder. He wasn't alone. Not really. She was now free of demon blood. Did that make her and Jonathan different now? Before, they had been linked. When she'd been hit with her demon blood craving, he'd been there to cut himself open and save her. Each and every time. But why? It wasn't love. Not really. He couldn't _feel _love. But he'd cared enough to save her repeatedly.

Cynthia sneakily moved her thumb under his own gloves, trailing the calloused pad over the rough scar upon his wrist. It was smoother than the one where his hand had been sliced off, which was how she could tell that was the one. The freezing metal of his bracelet brushed her bare skin, making her shiver lightly; it was below freezing.

What a strange love they had. Strong, unbreakable. But at the same time, so different. Wild and untamed. Maybe demons _could _love?

Without warning, Cynthia crushed her lips to Jonathan's own, making him blink once in surprise. The girl had become more affectionate since the purge of her demon blood. She was so sweet and innocent under that hard exterior. And such innocence needed to be protected.

"Your lips taste like strawberries," Jonathan noted in amusement as he raised a hand, brushing the stray strands of golden hair from Cynthia's intense emerald eyes. She smiled. "The wonders of lip gloss. You have shiny lips now too."

"Brilliant (!)" Jonathan mused, pulling away and draping an arm around the girl's shoulder, turning them away from the cathedral. "Now. Hot chocolate? There's a place up behind here that does it with a shot of vodka. It's fantastic."

"Whatever you want," Cynthia laughed, pulling her hat down more over her head with her free hand, snuggling more into Jonathan's side as they walked. He smelt just like Moscow itself. Snow and ice. It made her smile for some reason.

The snowfall fell faster, harder as they walked. As they reached the restaurant, it had turned into an icy blizzard. Jonathan's pale cheeks were flushed with blotchy dark red. Cynthia couldn't help but giggle at the sight- it was one she'd never seen before. He pulled off his hat and shook his head, scattering ice everywhere.

They both settled at a table near the back, near the window. The snow outside was amazing to watch. Cynthia was transfixed with the way it fell in sheets as Jonathan ordered their drinks.

"So are you going to tell me?" Cynthia asked as the waitress left, arching a brow at the demon boy. He just frowned. "Tell you what?"

"Why you quit your plans for the day. Important plans too. I'm not that special and I know you."

Jonathan said nothing for a start, but then reached across the table, taking one of Cynthia's hands into his own, playing with her fingers absentmindedly. "Well," he started slowly, "I have a better memory than you."

"I don't-?"

"You're nineteen today Cynthia."

She just stared at that before half laughing. "It is? It's my birthday?"

"Mmhmm," Jonathan nodded, dark eyes fixed upon her fingers as he continued to toy with them. "Yes."

"You dropped all your plans just because it's my birthday?"

"I did."

Cynthia laughed, glancing up as their hot chocolates were bought over, flashing the waitress a smile as she placed them before the pair that were still holding hands. "I don't know what to say Jonathan."

"Well," he mused, "you could forgive me."

Cynthia frowned, making him elaborate with, "I have nothing for you."

"Oh." Cynthia laughed, shaking her head a fraction. "I don't care. I'm alive and we're reunited. I really don't care."

Silence fell, Jonathan still staring at her fingers as he held them, twined with his own. Cynthia noticed just how deep in thought he looked. His brows were furrowed slightly. Suddenly, he burst out with, "I didn't think you'd want me anymore."

Cynthia stared. "Why would you think that?"

"Because," Jonathan sighed, pulling his hands from her own and sitting back, taking a quick sip from his drink. "We were tied before. Tied by blood. My blood."

"Oh." Cynthia frowned. "It was never the blood that made me stay with you. Never. It was because I loved you. You're a terrible person Jonathan. You've done such horrific acts, but I love you. I can't help it. Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, I belong to you. And you belong to me. You are _mine._" She surprised herself at just how possessive and passionate she sounded. But she was right- he really was hers. They were bound together. Tied by more than blood.

"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies," Jonathan muttered, causing Cynthia to tut out, "don't just quote Aristotle at me. And your half is blacker than hell if it's true."

"And yours is light," Jonathan added quietly, drinking more of his hot chocolate. "You burn brighter than the sun. No- I am the moon and you are the sun."

Cynthia just stared with her eyes wide and to Jonathan's amusement, so full of love that he wondered what it must be like. To feel like that... So intense that she was almost crying. He knew he'd never feel anything remotely the same, and for the first time ever, he wished he could. Just once. To see just how quotes and words could cause such pain or delight to one you loved.

Love was powerful. It had the potential to burn down the world all by itself. Even Jonathan knew that.

They drank the rest of their hot chocolate in silence and Cynthia soon realized he hadn't been wrong- there was vodka in it alright. Strong too. By the time she'd finished, she was fully aware of how tipsy she was. Even Jonathan who was almost impervious to getting drunk was feeling the effects. It made him more aware of the way Cynthia kept looking at him. Like she wanted to rip his clothes off there and then.

Like Jonathan, Cynthia had noticed just how long they'd been holding hands. That it hadn't hurt him at all. The heavenly fire had finally vanished.

That was the reason she shoved him against the nearest wall the moment they stepped into the apartment, kicking the door shut with her foot, lips locked with his freezing own, soon warming them up. Cynthia's fingers swiftly removed his coat, hooking under his jumper and tearing it off over his head with a playful grin about her lips as they were momentarily broken apart.

Before long they were upon the large bed, lips locked in a fiery embrace, hands more than frantic. _There's nothing awkward about it,_ Cynthia had noted when her mind wandered once while the demon boy was kissing under her chin with an open mouth. It was addicting. Positively sinful, the way he made her feel. How she'd missed the sensation of their bare bodies moving against each other all through the night, kisses deep and passionate. It was like they'd had sex a million times, not something like four.

_Alive,_ Cynthia realized when they finally turned into bed, burying her face into Jonathan's chest with her eyes fluttering closed. _We're so _alive_ together. So normal. The world keeps on spinning, Shadowhunters chasing us down… but that doesn't hinder us. Apart, I'm weak. Together, I'm strong. Jonathan doesn't need me. Not like how I need and love him. Together, it's like we're normal. Like Jonathan isn't tainted by demon blood._

He'd even called the ragged scar, a reminder that she'd once been a demon girl, beautiful. That no scar would ever make him think otherwise.

Cynthia just smiled to herself as she snuggled more into her lover, the snow still falling, softly now, outside the window.


	6. Chapter 6

When Cynthia woke up, she was alone.

She rolled over under the covers, snuggling more into the pillow. It smelt like Jonathan.

Where was he?

There was a note on the pillow next to her.

_Cyn, I had business to take care of along with Hanna. We're leaving when I get back. Get what you want together. There's food in the fridge. Jonathan._

Cynthia pouted, but didn't complain. She was going to have to get used to it.

She showered and changed into new clothes Jonathan had left her on the table. She'd just finished her breakfast when the front door opened as he returned. He didn't look very happy.

"How dare they," Jonathan was raging. Cynthia saw blood on the side of his face from around the cover. What had happened?

Cynthia stepped forwards, but then froze; Hanna had her hand on his arm, a concerned look about her face as she told him "It'll be fine."

"It will," Jonathan snapped back, turning away. Cynthia felt the jealously course through her as Hanna followed him. She didn't give the warlock chance as she walked into the room, acting as if she hadn't seen anything. "Jonathan?"

He didn't turn around and Cynthia just snapped out, "Jonathan!"

Now the boy did turn, and Cynthia felt such worry for him. It was… strange. All these human emotions that she hadn't felt so strongly for years, and it was all here.

It hurt in such a good way. She wished Jonathan could feel what she could.

"What's wrong?" Cynthia asked with a frown, taking his face into her hands. He gazed at her steadily before pulling away, snapping out, "we have to leave and right now." He crossed the room and into the bedroom, shutting it behind him.

Cynthia turned on Hanna now, arching a brow. "What exactly is your connection to Jonathan?" she asked coolly. The warlock ignored her for a moment, then replied without looking at her, "he saved my life and I do things for him."

"Define 'things.'"

Hanna laughed, taking a step forwards to face her. Cynthia had always wondered about the girl, her involvement and nature. Jonathan trusted her, so she did too.

But why was Jonathan so attached to her still?

"We had sex a few times," Hanna shrugged. "Didn't he tell you?"

_What._

Cynthia just stared at the girl, feeling so numb. And then she felt sick. Hanna just blinked. "Oh he didn't tell you?"

"No," Cynthia retorted coolly, eyes flickering to the closed door. "He didn't."

Hanna frowned. "I thought he cared about you? I mean… he's a demon boy who can't care, but he does for you. Somehow. I assure you he came onto _me. _Not the other way around. I don't think he ever cared about you. He just pretends. You're nothing but a toy to him to play with. He told me he was glad you died. He was free until you came back."

Cynthia was mad. Furious.

He'd told her that he hadn't had sex with anyone while she was 'dead'. And he'd lied through his teeth.

What else was he lying about?

Jonathan walked out of the room now with his face devoid of blood. He just told Cynthia, not looking at her, "it was a trap. I set out to meet the Russian werewolves, but the set a trap for me instead."

"Are you okay?" Cynthia asked, worry taking over her again. She was mad, but she couldn't help the fear she felt. It made Cynthia feel so human.

"I'm fine," Jonathan snapped. "They're all dead." A dark smirk appeared upon his lips. "I forced water with silver down the leader's throat. I'd like to see him try and talk with his throat melted."

Before her humanity was bought back, she would have found it amusing. Complimented him on his imagination. All she felt now was disgust.

"Anyway," Jonathan purred, leaning down and pressing his lips to Cynthia's own. She stiffened, and the demon boy noticed. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, trailing his lips down her jaw line towards her lips. Cynthia laughed bitterly, noting just how fast the whore had left the apartment. "Nothing."

"Oh Cyn I know when you're lying."

"And apparently with you, I don't."

Jonathan froze, removing his lips from her jaw as he scoffed out, "What?"

Cynthia snorted in dark amusement, taking a step backwards from him. "You forgot to tell me you had sex with your little warlock pet."

He hadn't been expecting that. Jonathan frowned, then laughed, shaking his head. "So? It's just sex."

"Just sex?!" Cynthia went to slap him, but he caught her wrist, snarling out. "You were dead! Were you expecting me to never hook up with anyone ever again?"

Her wrist hurt, but she wasn't going to let it show. His words had hurt her more. "When?" Cynthia asked quietly, tears burning in her eyes. "Did you wait a few days, at least?"

"It was just sex Cynthia. You're overreacting."

"I love you!" she yelled at him, wrenching her hand away from him. "I love you so much, and you do this?!" The tears were spilling from her eyes now. Wet and hot.

"By the Angel Cynthia," Jonathan snarled into her face. "I've had a bad day already, don't start. And don't cry either."

"What?" Cynthia's voice broke. "The hell Jonathan? Can you at least attempt to understand how much this hurts me? I… I was alive when you shagged that fucking bitch."

"Well I didn't cheat," Jonathan scoffed, turning away. "And it was two weeks after you 'died,' by the way."

As he started to walk off, to grab his scarf from the back of the kitchen chair, Cynthia muttered out, voice quiet, "Sebastian."

There was nothing else in the world that could have made him freeze like that. To everyone else, he was Sebastian Verlac. The monster that had destroyed the wards of Alicante. Cynthia had come to imagine that name as his monster name. She called him Jonathan because she loved him. And Jonathan hated her calling him Sebastian. Hated it with a passion.

She had never purposefully called him 'Sebastian' before now.

"You dare call me that," the demon boy told her quietly, meeting emerald eyes with his midnight own. "You. Dare."

"What?" Cynthia retorted innocently. "Don't you like it? I thought it was your name now?"

"You bitch."

"Fuck you." Cynthia was glaring. "Fuck. You. Sebastian." She turned to leave, but he pounced, snagging her wrists. "Cynthia," he growled softly, "you are being ridiculous."

She gazed at him steadily before wrenching her hands away. "You told me you hadn't slept with anyone."

"I lied. So what? I was grieving."

Cynthia laughed at that. Truly laughed. It echoed through the apartment. "You?" she told him incredulously. "Grieving? You can't grieve. Literally. You are an emotionless bastard that can't love or anything. And I-" Cynthia felt the tears start to flow. "I hurt. I just… it feels like my heart is ripping itself out at every tiny little thing that you do and it _hurts. It hurts so bad._"

Cynthia gasped, rubbing the tears from her face as swiftly as she could. "You don't get it. Before, I was like you. I didn't feel things. I… I feel so human. And it hurts."

Jonathan was staring now, and then, slowly, he shook his head. "What? You don't love me anymore?"

With a scowl, Cynthia slapped him straight across the face. The boy laughed, rubbing his cheek. "And that is how I know you do."

"You're an actual bastard. I'm leaving for a while." She turned to the door, reaching out to open it but it opened first and she was face to face with Hanna. Cynthia's eyes narrowed as she laughed out softly, "bitch, you better make me a Portal to Idris. Now."

Hanna went to speak, but Cynthia's lip curled up in a dark snarl. "And if you ever, ever touch him again, I will kill you. I swear on the Angel."

The warlocks eyes widened at that, and to Cynthia's disgust, she laughed. "Oh? He came onto me. Sounded pretty happy that you were dead, thank you."

Cynthia flinched at that. Her eyes went to the boy who was stood behind, scrubbing the blood off his arms. He hadn't heard. And from the way Hanna had told her, she believed the warlock.

"Make me a Portal. Now," Cynthia demanded, narrowing her eyes. "Before I slay you where you stand."

The warlock shrugged, then walked off into another room. Cynthia knew that she was listening. Obeying.

"Are you really leaving?" Jonathan called to Cynthia coolly as he dried off his arms. "Truly?"

"Yes," she shot back. "I want to see my mother. I've been wasting all my years around you. My mother is alive, and I… I killed my father. She is the only family I have left. True family."

Jonathan folded his arms, glaring at her. "Fine. Whatever. I really don't care."

"Sure."

"Come back or don't, I truly don't give a shit. You're overreacting and when you apologize-"

_"What?!" _Cynthia snarled now, rounding on him. "Me? Apologize? You're the one that stuck his dick inside another woman just what? A few weeks after I was 'dead?'"

Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. "You are impossible. It was just sex."

Cynthia's eyes narrowed, and before she could stop herself, she snagged the plate on the table and threw it at him. He ducked at the last moment, hissing out, "oh? So you didn't tell your little fuckbuddy that you were glad I was dead?"

"No I didn't."

"Stop lying-!"

"I'm not!" Jonathan roared back, eyes so dark Cynthia was sure there was no bottom.

She shrugged, turning away. "I'm done." The tears were burning in her eyes as she stalked into the next room, shoving Hanna aside as she walked straight into the Portal without a glance back. But she could feel his eyes on her. And she was sure Hanna was smirking.

Everything was falling apart.


End file.
